She was surprised just how timid she had become. When on the hunt for Eng and Anna, she had been fearless, but now that she was in the Zone, death seemed to be everywhere.
“You ready?” Hoskins asked. He had mottled grey eyes and stark-white skin, especially along the ridges of his knuckles; he was gripping his M4 so tightly that he was cutting off the circulation to his fingers.
“Yeah. All w-we need is just one of them,” she said, to reassure them both. “We get one alone. Kill it, get its blood and get back.” It sounded so simple, but when was there only just one? They usually traveled in packs and it was almost a guarantee that if one was spotted alone there would be a dozen more nearby.
Katherine was so undermined by fear that Hoskins was the first to move, jogging low through the back parking lot, which was empty save for a few company vans. Beyond the lot was a low hill that was studded with trees. Then they were back in another affluent neighborhood where the houses were tall and brick, and the zombies wore four-hundred dollar McAllister wingtip shoes and silk rags.
Six of them were in view and the pair shrunk down behind the lip of the hill. Hoskins gave Katherine a raised eyebrow that she read as: What do you think? “We’re too close. If we have to run, they’ll follow us right back to the building.” It was the worst possible scenario since there were too few of them to withstand any sort of siege and all their efforts would’ve been in vain.
The pair scurried off to their left, to the end of the parking lot. They seemed far enough away to try to make it across the intervening street. To Katherine, the street seemed to be half a football field wide. By the time she made it to the side of the closest house, she was panting and sweating.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” said, embarrassed. “Everything feels worse in the daylight. You know, scarier.”
“I know what you mean,” Hoskins replied; he had sweat in his dark hair, too and his eyes flitted about. “It’s because they can see us, that’s why. And if they see us, they’ll swarm.”
It was then that Katherine’s stomach began to ache. “All we need is one,” she said again. She then nodded to Hoskins and followed him around the side of the house to the intersecting street. It was clear, as was the next, and the one after that. She didn’t want to go any further. Already it seemed like the safety of the R&K Building was too far out of reach.
“This is good,” she whispered, pulling him back as he was about to go on.
He looked relieved. “So how do you want to do this? We can maybe call out and see if only one comes sniffing around. What do you think?”
She pictured zombies bursting out of every house and from every shadow, charging down on them. It would be a mob scene and they’d be lucky to escape with their lives. Getting blood would be almost impossible. “We could, um…um…” She’d been going full-bore for two days and the pitiful bit of sleep that she had snatched earlier had left her slow and dopey. Simple plans were not popping into place like they should have.
Getting inside one of the houses was about the only thing that made sense. The desire also kicked off a quick idea that could work. “Here’s something. All these doors look pretty sturdy. We call some of the dead over. We open the door for the first, kill it and slam the door on the others. Then escape out the back when we have the blood.”
He grinned with relief. “That’s good. That’ll work. I know it.”
The closest house seemed as good as any of the rest and, after making sure it was empty and there was a clear lane to run for the back door, Katherine took a deep breath. “You ready?”
“I need the syringes.”
“Right. Sorry.” Her hands shook as she held out the three capped syringes. He put them on a polished credenza next to a silver picture frame. The photo in the frame had been professionally done with an idyllic nature setting as a background. The family was young and perfectly blonde and perfectly happy; Katherine had to turn away, knowing they were probably dead.
She opened the front door and peeked out at the empty street before yelling, “Hello!” She paused to listen and then called out a second time, then a third. There was no response.
Hoskins had moved into the living room and was at the window, craning his head back and forth. “Go again.” She was about to when he saw four of the beasts emerge from around the side of the house directly across the street. “Wait!” he hissed, hurrying back into the hall. “They’re coming. Get ready.”
She could see them now, racing right for her. The only sound they made was the slapping of their feet and their harsh breathing. They were faster than she thought possible. “Fuck,” she whined, the corners of her mouth pulled down in a grimace. She ducked back behind the door, ready to slam it shut. At the same time, Hoskins took a few steps back and raised his gun. There was a thud and a screech from outside, and through the crack in the door, she saw the first of them stumbling up the porch.
As it fell, and the others scrambled over it, there was a sudden crash of glass behind them. The dining room window had exploded inwards and a naked grey-skinned man was flaying itself as it climbed inside. Spiked with panic, Hoskins turned and fired at the zombie, blasting off chunks of flesh and shattering its front teeth. The sound of the gun in the quiet morning was outrageous and a part of him wanted to fling it away, knowing that it was summoning every zombie within a mile.
When Hoskins turned back, it looked like the front door was being mobbed. They weren’t coming one at a time; there were already two of them fighting to get in. Instead of letting them, which was their only chance of getting a sample, he fired once more. A perfect shot. The first beast dropped dead—completely dead this time—landing right in the doorway.
Another crawled over this one and again, instead of letting it in, he killed it with a clean shot. Its body added to the problem and threw their entire plan out the window. Katherine screamed as she saw what had happened and slammed her shoulder against the door.
“Kill them!” she yelled. It was their only chance. Hoskins leapt forward and fired six times and filling his head with numb echos. He thought he had got them all and turned to shoot again at the creature trying to get in through the dining room window. It was somehow still alive. He fired and fired.
Katherine was still straining to shut the door and even with her ears ringing from the gun blasts, she could hear a very close growl. “Hoskins!” she screamed just as he fired again, drowning out her voice.
A hideous grey-skinned creature pulled itself from the pile of corpses and slammed the door into Katherine sending her head crashing against the wall behind her. She was pinned and unable to defend herself, but the zombie ignored her and slammed into Hoskins, raking him with its diseased claws and tearing at his shoulder with its fangs.
The two went down with the credenza falling over them. Katherine squeezed out from behind the door and scrambled for her M4. She wanted to shoot the thing; however the fight was too wild and fast. They were rolling around so much that she was afraid she would hit Hoskins. Before she could get a good shot in, more zombies were flocking to the house. She knelt in the doorway and began firing, killing a pair of undead beasts with silver hair and black eyes, just as they were rushing for the door.
Finally, Hoskins got free enough to get his weapon around. He fired, blasting a gaping hole out of the top of its head. Black blood fountained up, hitting the ceiling before raining back down on him. It was dead, and so was Hoskins. He was scratched in eleven places and bitten in two. He was also drenched with black blood—he was infected. There was no question about that.
The mission was an abject failure done. There was no time to harvest any blood, the syringes were nowhere in sight and the street was alive with zombies converging on the house in a shambling sprint.
“Go,” Hoskins said, miserably to Katherine. His eyes wouldn’t stop blinking and yet they remained completely unfocused. “I’ll hold them off…for a while.”
She knew what he was going to do. He would shoot a few of th
e monsters and then when she got away, he would kill himself. And maybe that was fine, except it would leave Katherine all alone and running for her life. Because of the horrible death he faced, she knew it wouldn’t be right to try to stop him and yet, it wasn’t just Katherine who was in need of him.
If there was going to be a cure, someone would have to be tested and what better person than someone who was already infected? It certainly would save Katherine another trip out into the world.
“Please,” she begged, “I need you. We need you. Remember the cure, Hoskins!” Had he been thinking straight, he would have asked: What cure? So far, the cure consisted of little more than a bit of fungus and some molecules spinning in a centrifuge.
He wasn’t thinking straight. The dull blinks turned to slow nods and he allowed her to pull him up. Together they raced through the house and out into the back yard just as the dead crashed through into the living room. It sounded like the monsters were destroying the house as they came on.
“Don’t look back!” Katherine cried. She knew she wouldn’t, afraid that if she did, she would become paralyzed with fear. Their only chance was to go as fast as they could for as long as they could.
The two of them tore through the grass to the tall fence at the back of the yard. It was slick and flat, and with their ballistic armor hampering their movement, neither made it up and over on the first try. He boosted her over, tossed his gun after and made another try. It would be his last try. Already there were nine of the creatures in the yard and some were terrifyingly fast. He backed up a few feet and made another run at the fence. His hands caught, and his feet kicked desperately on the wood, slowly gaining purchase. Far too slow. He had yet to get a leg over the top and the nearest zombie was only ten feet away when Katherine jammed her M4 through a crack in the fence and began firing.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Again, the gunshots sounded huge. They screamed their position to the world and the world was filled with the dead. Zombies were now coming at the fence from two sides.
Katherine yelled for him to hurry, only he had gone weak. A part of him had given up and it seemed to take forever before he dropped down next to her, panting and wild-eyed. Just as he struggled up, the fence was struck with terrific blows as the zombies plowed into it full force. The wood promptly cracked in two places. These cracks were attacked by the zombies bare-handed, and soon the fence was coming apart. By then Katherine and Hoskins were running towards the next house.
Before they could get to it, an upper floor window suddenly blasted out and, as Katherine watched in horror, a zombie fell three stories to land face-first on the patio. Impossibly, the thing sat up.
They ran past it. In front of them was a sliding glass door. There was no time to check to see if it was locked. Katherine fired a half-dozen bullets into it and it came down just at the two threw their bodies through it. They found themselves in a finished walkout basement. The house was so large that even the downstairs was something of a maze.
“Stairs, stairs, stairs,” Hoskins kept repeating as they ran through door after door. They finally found the stairs leading up, while behind them zombies were everywhere, flooding the rooms and going in all directions. Thankfully, there was a sturdy door at the top of the stairs.
Katherine eased it quietly shut behind them. The house was surrounded, or very nearly so. Dozens of zombies were towards the backyard, streaming along either side of the house. Quickly, the two slunk down and practically crawled to the front door. Amazingly, the street was clear.
“Come on,” Katherine hissed, and hurried out. Hoskins came along, almost reluctantly. He was slow, his feet wooden. Still, the zombies were entirely focused on tearing the house apart with great fury, which allowed the two of them to slink all the way back to the safety of the R&K Building.
He refused to go inside. He turned away, mumbling, “Just a moment.”
She worried that he was going to kill himself and readied herself to tackle him before he could. Then she heard what sounded like a sniffle and she stepped back. He stood, half-hidden by the dumpster for a few minutes. “You’re gonna have to kill me,” he told her. “Eventually, I mean. There’s never going to be a cure. Not in time for me, at least.”
“You never know. Dr. Lee is very smart. I’ve seen her file. She’s whatever it is that’s beyond genius.”
He grunted at her supposed genius. He knew that cures for anything, if they ever came about, were years in the making. Ripping a sleeve across his eyes, he turned back to Katherine. “We might as well do this. What’s the worst that could happen?”
As they went inside and sprayed each other down, the question got under Katherine’s skin. The infected became evil—terribly, terribly evil, and in truth, anything could happen. Anything at all.
Chapter 9
1-8:06 a.m.
Elnora, Indiana
When Emerald Storme slid the plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, Nicolas Read was struck by an intense feeling of déjà vu. He let it wash over him without dwelling on it as others might. Déjà vu was a daily occurrence with him. It was a familiar reassuring feeling.
He didn’t make any claims to being psychic or clairvoyant or any of that nonsense. It was just that when a man lived in the same small town his entire life and went to the same diner every morning and ordered the same thing, déjà vu could be expected.
“Any news, Sheriff?” Emerald asked.
She didn’t mean news from the day-old Indianapolis Star he had been re-reading. That morning’s edition, if one had even been printed, hadn’t come. It hadn’t been a shock. The entire state had virtually closed up shop and about the only things moving out on the highway were family cars heading west, their roofs piled to the point of teetering with belongings. Emerald would’ve been one of them except she could no longer afford gas, which was currently selling at forty-five dollars a gallon and going up by the hour—and that was cash.
Although the machines still worked, no one was taking credit cards anymore. She hadn’t mentioned that to Read yet. If he wasn’t good for it, the county would be.
Being stranded in this pissant burg was the story of her life. She had once been a slip of a girl named Debbie Shultz with dreams of going to Hollywood and “making it big.” Her journey to the good life had lasted only seventy-three miles before her Datsun up and died right on the highway within sight of the diner. Slowly, her dreams up and died as well.
The sheriff had just taken a heroic bite from his mounded-up fork and when he was done chewing, he answered, “Nothing that ain’t been repeated seventy-five times an hour on the TV. ‘Cept maybe that the governor is ‘appropriating’ the last of my deputies.”
“Where they going? Indy?”
Because people were hoarding their cash, there was only one other patron in the diner and he was just about as far away from Sheriff Read as a man could get and still order an egg and waffles. Regardless, Read lowered his voice and said, “I-74.”
Her penciled eyebrow shot up. “They closing the border? They tell you why?” She had good reason to be worried. Everyone was fairly certain that if Indiana closed their eastern border with Ohio, then Illinois was probably going to close their eastern border as well, which meant they’d be trapped if things went sideways.
“Yeah, the Governor’s always calling me up to let me know his business,” Read drawled, giving her a little smile before forking half an egg into his mouth. “I have my guesses, though. There’s rumors flyin’ around like you wouldn’t believe and we get ‘em all. Monsters here, zombies there. Hell, we even had a vampire sighting last night. Allegedly, I mean. I would say it was all nonsense if it weren’t for the news.”
“Is it true the mayor of Dayton shut down I-70? We had a trucker come through at the crack of dawn saying the CB was squawking about Dayton and Patterson Air Force Base throwing up road blocks.”
Before he answered, another egg went down his gullet and then a slice of bacon went into his mouth like it was going into a grinder. He was in
the process of licking his thumb when his sharp eyes caught something wrong. A smallish SUV had just rolled down from the highway, blasted through the barbed wire fence, and was trundling through a field of newly thinned corn.
He sighed and picked up a new piece of bacon. There was no sense getting up; the 4-Runner, he could see it plain as day now, was heading directly for the diner. If it stopped and the driver came in, well, they would have a talk. If it kept going, Sheriff Read would finish his breakfast and probably order a slice of pie as well because that was the mood he was in.
Fining the driver would be a waste of time and jailing him would be even worse. The courts were closed indefinitely, and he no longer had the manpower to lock people up for a bit of stupidity.
Read was hoping to finish his breakfast; however, the SUV crossed the field bounced down one curb and up the other before it began to slow. Drunk, probably, he was just thinking, when the driver went off the road, plowed into some bushes and turned slowly toward the diner, finally coming to a stop, bumping up against the single tree that had stood guarding the parking lot for as long as Read could remember.
He leaned over, his dirty blonde hair spilling over one ear, reminding him that he was past due for a haircut. “What is that?” The windows, front and back, were filthy. “Is that a woman?”
It had once been Heather Harris. Somehow, right up until she stepped out of the 4-Runner, she had held onto some scrap of her humanity. Starting from just outside of Cincinnati, it had been slowly tortured out of her and now the last bit of it hissed from her grey lips as she was hit with the glaring, brittle blue sky, and the piercing brightness of the sun.
She had to get out of sight of that terrible sun. That’s all she cared about. The smell of fresh blood would have to wait. Heather bolted inside with her coat hauled up over her head and stood panting a few feet inside the diner. It was a long, narrow, low-ceilinged structure. Because of the tinted windows, it was dim inside, which allowed her to think.
War of the Undead Day 5 Page 12